


Triptocane or bust

by I_really_love_pans



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drugs, Guns, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 21:52:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12920988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_really_love_pans/pseuds/I_really_love_pans
Summary: Norman contemplates his life thus far in the bathtub of a shady motel.





	Triptocane or bust

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off two writing prompts'.
> 
> Favorite song lyric, and they said there'd be no side effects.

Based off two prompts, start a story with your favorite song lyric, and they told me there would be no side effects prompts.

  


Hot and cold sweat, quivering lips, it was no different than any other night, coming down from his high in a bathtub full of ice-cold water, Ice cubes threw in for good measure. His gun and a small tube of Tripto always resting beside his head. He figured one day he’d reach for the weapon instead. He never did. The high, was it even worth it? In his mind, he had convinced himself that it was. It was always worth it. Closing his eyes, he held his breath and slid beneath the icy surface. His eyes open, the cold stinging them. How easy would it be to open my mouth, let the water fill my lungs and stop existing? No more addiction, no more cases, and no more ARI… that fucking system was his curse, his burden to bear.

 

It was the reason they gave him the Triptocane; it would help with the side effects they said, it would be safe they said, no chance for addiction. They lied. He knew they were lying, but his pride as an FBI agent kept him blind to the truth. Everything had seemed fine in the beginning. 20 minutes in the ARI was easy, then 30, then an hour. Realizing he had gone through 5 tubes on the Tripto before the end of the day let alone the fucking week. The shakes, the longing, the hallucinations. Small blue tanks, driving across his desk, getting in the way of his work. The worst part of it was when he went to take the ARI glasses off only to find out he wasn’t wearing them. He would spot them nestled next to a stack of papers. Then the blood dripped from his nose, he pulled open one of the many drawers in his desk and pulled out that tube, shoving half it up his nose before inhaling the blue toxin into his lungs. He falls back in his chair, his eyes glazing over.

  


Norman resurfaced from the water, taking a large breath, filling his lungs with oxygen again.

 

He pushed his hair back and leaned up against the tub, thoughts of suicide he didn’t have them often, when he was coming down from a very bad high. Carter was his only line that kept him anchored to this world, he was thousands of miles away, but that did not stop the man from leaving millions of messages, and attempting to Skype with him. He knew he was still abusing the substance. It was so easy though, having an endless supply of it so long as he continued to use the ARI system.

 

He remembered his superiors calling him to the office, and asking if he’d test this new system the lab had been working on. It was supposed to help find clues that were not visible to the naked eye. They said it would revolutionize the way the FBI solved crimes. And apparently, if it killed an agent or two it was worth the loss he spoke as his eyes looked to the door. He sometimes wished that Carter would just break down the door as he had always done whenever they were to interrogate a suspect and drag his sorry ass out of the bathtub, tell him to get his shit together and fucking stop being a pussy and that he cared about him.

 

“Maybe I should just give up, did I even load the gun?” his hand lifting out of the water and slowly snaking its way up the side behind his head. It would be so easy, so damn easy. His fingers wrapped around the grip and pulled it up to his face; this gun had only taken one life, He never forgot it. His eyes stare into the barrel; he took a deep breath slowly pushing the tip past his lips. The taste of steel, it was bitter on his tongue his eyes closed and his finger wrapped around the trigger.

 

He waited. Waited for it all to end, for no pain, no addiction, nothing. His eyes snap open. His phone is vibrating across the bathroom sink; it managed to get onto the floor. He stares at it, he stared until he saw double, slowly without really noticing he is pulling the gun out and placing it on the side of the bath. He wants the phone; it’s a sign that it went off at that moment. He knew who it was. He wanted to answer it.

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I will add more if this gets requests for more of the story. As of now it is what it is.


End file.
